


little things

by jongleur



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mindless Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:43:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jongleur/pseuds/jongleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“the thing is, louis, you’re perfect. yeah, you’re such a silly, silly boy, and i’m almost convinced your blood is made up of yorkshire tea, and you never wear socks and you never stop talking and you’re so loud, but i don’t care. because i love every single thing about you. even the annoying things, because they aren’t even annoying to me anymore. maybe they never were. that’s how love works, isn’t? when you love everything about a person so much that it hurts… and they love everything about you. and, i really hope you love everything about me, louis. it’s hard, almost impossible, but i really hope you do.”</p><p>or</p><p>when they become trivial, they fight, he proposes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little things

**Author's Note:**

> what did i even do? ok, so here's story number 2 of my tmh collection. i tried this thing where i don't use capital letters and it came out bad but im too lazy to change it so here you go. it's too fluffy, it has no capital letters, it's 3k and i wrote it in a night, i know. but, enjoy?

 

 

_your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me  
but bare this in mind, it was meant to be_

_  
i'm in love with you, and all these little things_

_**..** _

louis had left the toothpaste open. again.

harry glared at his unsuspecting boyfriend. “lou, you left a mess in the bathroom.”

“i'm sorry harry.” except louis didn’t look half as sorry as he said he was as he ate from a bowl of cereal and eyed the sports section of the newspaper.

“you’re eating cereal. you ate cereal yesterday.”

“i am.”

Harry sighed, “i’m gonna make myself some eggs, want some?”

“sure, babe.”

but louis had never gotten around to eat any of it because he had gotten a call from his agent, he needed to be at some studio by nine that morning. harry was happy for louis, he was, but he had thought that by now, when the ‘one direction infection’ was over, they would be able to spend more time together.

except no, not really, louis was always wanted as a presenter and to be honest, his boyfriend had some sort of job obsession. harry had also gotten around to record some singles, but it was mostly louis who was always so busy.

harry sighed as he moved his breakfast around. he wasn’t hungry.

—O—

around two in the afternoon louis was back.

“hey, love. how’d it go?”

_it went well._

“it went well.” always the same, always the same.

“that’s nice. when do you start?”

“in a week, maybe less. it depends. caroline was there, too.”

“caroline? cazza?”

“yup.” louis popped the _p_ , and if he sounded bitter harry did not notice. this last few months he didn’t really notice.

louis moved to the couch where harry had been watching tv. there was a trashy reality tv show on, it was on mute since louis had come in.

“you should stop watching this shit. don’t know why you do.”

“i like it. besides, there’s not much i can do here.”

louis took off his shoes and dropped them on harry’s lap.

harry’s nose scrunched up. “your feet stink.”

“i know, harry,” louis sighed, “i know.”

they sat there in silence, pretending to watch the show, but both too aware of each other.

the silence grew and so did the tension, the air was heavy.

“what, louis?”

louis closed his eyes. “i have an interview tonight.”

a beat of silence.

“ _tonight_? goddamn it, louis, did you forget we have reservations for tonight? since, like, _months ago_?”

“no, i didn’t _forget_ about it. i just couldn’t  well damn cancel.”

harry stood up, leaving louis’ feet dangling. he towered above the smaller man. he looked down, “oh, but you think it’s alright to cancel _our_ date?”

louis frowned and stood up too, inches apart from his boyfriend, “ _date_? people talk on dates, people flirt on dates, harry. we eat in silence, pay the bill and that’s it. that’s not a date. we don’t have dates. not anymore.”

“and that’s my fault? i don’t know what’s wrong with you louis, but you used to never shut up and now? now i’m the one trying to make small talk! _small talk_ between you and me, louis, how is that even—”

“i’d talk if you actually listened! you aren’t interested, so i’m not gonna make your day even more boring by talking about shit you don’t care about!”

“ _even more boring_? you know why i fucking don’t go out anymore, louis, huh?! because i get papped and then people start rumors about me and someone else and that fucking bothers you! i stay here like a fucking housewife while you go to work.”

“you can go out! i never said you couldn’t! damn it, harry.”

“you never did, but i do it because I care for you! and i do stuff for the people i care about, unlike you, tomlinson!”

“tomlinson? shit, that’s how it is? on last name basis? and what the fuck are you saying? are you saying i don’t care for you?”

louis was red, harry was _seeing_ red. and now their voices were in a competition to see which was louder.

“well, you sure as hell don’t show it!”

“that’s not true, what are you even saying?”

“you never bother to make me breakfast in the morning! and i always do!”

“fuck that, you know I can’t cook! what are you playing at harry?”

“well, you could make me a crappy bowl of cereal, can you?...and stop leaving the toothpaste open, it’s bloody annoying.”

“you stop it!”

“with what?”

“your…your fucking posh accent! it’s annoying!”

“my accent?! is that all you can come up with?”

“oh, harry, you shouldn’t have said that! for starters, you can stop with your hipster pretenses, fuck that noise you listen to!”

“oh, my _music_? can you—”

“and your need to do laundry every three fucking days? you’re twenty-three, not eighty!”

“if I don’t, then no one else will! i don’t know how are you still alive, you’re literally the dirtiest person i know!”

“dirty? you sure as hell don’t complain about me being dirty when i make you fucking moan like a porn star!”

“what are you even saying? oh, my god! you know what? shut up, my bad, its better when you don’t talk, ‘cause when you do all that comes out of your mouth is stupid!”

“stop being so fucking pretentious! the harry i loved isn’t like that!”

“the harry you _loved_!? the harry you loved is still here. but it’s good to know you don’t love me anymore!”

“you drive me fucking crazy, harry styles!” louis yelled loud, so loud harry nearly covered his ears. he didn’t, however, he was too stunned to do anything. louis had left running, closing the door in a slam and leaving harry with a red face, teary eyes, and growing rage.

he yelled, he punched the wall, and he started throwing everything: frames, lamps, mirrors.

how dare he?! how dare he say all that? as if it was harry’s fault!

this was it. it was over. harry was done with the incompetence and utter failure that was louis tomlinson. he would call liam or better yet, niall, because he wouldn’t get too nosey unlike liam. yes, he would call niall and get him to help him pack his stuff and move the fuck out of their stupid, overly priced, overly gay flat.

after that, he would go out with nick and get drunk like he hadn’t been able to do in ages, since fucking louis was so damn jealous and possessive and actually thought harry was with all those people in the fucking tabloids.

_as if._

he pulled his own curls as he sat down on his couch.

_as if i would be with anyone other than that idiot._

his breath evened little by little.

and well, harry knew louis didn’t _really_ believe all those bullshit tabloids. he knew louis knew that, because harry told him through kisses, be them chaste or passionate, every night. every kiss meant an _i love you, i’m here, i’m yours and no one else’s_

every kiss meant an _i can’t live without you._

every kiss meant a _you’re everything._

and no, harry didn’t really think that their flat was overly-priced or overly-gay. ok, it was, but it wasn’t a problem, not really.

(“ _we’re filthy rich and fucking gay, harry, let’s buy it?”_

_“alright, let’s buy it.”)_

and maybe harry _was_ getting a bit pretentious, it had been months since he and louis danced in just their boxers and socks to a katy perry song. it had been months since he listened to anything other than indie bands nick had recommended.

_(‘cause you’re hot then you’re cold, you’re yes then you’re no_

_“you’re in, then you’re out!”_

_“you’re up, when I’m down!” louis slided and almost fell. his socks and the slick wooden floor weren’t a good combination._

_“’i’ll pretend I never saw that. by the way, you aren’t wearing any pants, harry.”_

_“i know.”_

_“i’ll leave.”_

_“close the door behind you, liam!”_

_a slamming door.)_

and louis never made breakfast for him. not since that morning when he had tried to do it and almost burned half the kitchen, not since _harry_ had told him no to.

(“ _what did you do, lou? why is you fringe burnt?”_

_“I was—trying to make you eggs on toast?” he shrugged and harry smiled._

_“thank you, babe. just don’t try it anymore, alright?”_

_“…alright.”_ )

and god, does louis always leave that toothpaste open! and his underwear is everywhere around the house!

but then again, he’s the only one who’ll watch with him _love, actually_ three times in a row with him. he’s the only one who’ll sing all the robbie williams songs with him no matter when or where.

louis’ the only one who’ll not judge him when he cries during _Up_ , instead he’ll cry along with him. louis’ is the one who’ll tell harry he looks pretty when he asks how he look with a pink bow on his hair.

louis is the only person in the whole world who can make harry’s breath hitch with only a smile. because goddamnit, those crinkles by his eyes, are they even real? he’s the only boy who manages to never grow up and still be mature and so strong, even more so than harry. he’s the only one with the perfect set of blue eyes, because ever since harry met louis, all the blues are either too light or too dark. other eyes never seem to hold that spark behind them.

and the bum, oh, the bum.

he’s the only one who gets to be so cute and tiny and still seem bigger than life.

he’s the only one who gets to have stinky feet and still for harry to like them, because, hell, louis doesn’t wear any socks and that’s stupid and adorable and perfect and so, so louis.

he’s the only one who gets to touch harry with a feather touch and still be able to make him feel like a blushing teenage girl.

he’s the only one whose harry’s heart belongs to, had belong to since they first met, and will only belong to.

and that's when he realizes, harry’s heart will never belong to anyone else but louis tomlinson.

he didn’t notice he’d been crying until the few drops fall on his lap. he didn’t notice he’d been clenching his fists until his knuckles are stark white. and he didn’t notice as he ran down his apartment building until he’d already started the engine of his car.

harry drove fast, the windows of his car down so the full air was dancing through his scalp, his curls wild as he laughed because, yes, he’s doing this.

he almost choked as he hears what song was on the radio; of fucking course, his life was a romantic comedy wasn’t it? and yeah, _all your stupid lovely little things, lou._

he knew where louis was, he was always there when harry couldn’t  be there for him. it pained him to know moments like that existed.

harry got there, stayed in his car for a few seconds but soon got out. he really was doing this, no stopping him.

he ran up the familiar case of stairs and only stopped when he got to the second to the last floor, which all belonged to his friend.

harry squeezed shut his eyes before ringing the doorbell.

the first thing he saw was a blur of a raven quiff. zayn.

“harry.” the older boy looked at him, he wasn’t smiling, but his brown eyes were warm and understanding. maybe he knew this would happen eventually. maybe everyone else knew; maybe even harry and louis knew, they were just blinded by the conformities of what had become their trivial life.

“i’m sorry, zayn, i’m sorry.”

zayn nodded slowly, “it’s not me you should be apologizing to, harry. and you are not the only who should do so.”

he moved out of the doorway to let harry come in. he did.

“he’s in the guest room…i’ll step outside for some minutes. just…fix this, harry, please. fix him, fix you.”

_fix him, fix you._

“thank you zayn. for being here for him, i mean, when i can’t. thank you.”

zayn smiled lazily and harry was soon alone, alone with louis just in the next room.

seven steps.

seven steps and he was right in front of the door. he took one last breath and opened it.

his heart stopped because there he was, louis. louis curled up in a ball with some of zayn’s pants on and one of harry’s own giant jumpers. without any socks on and staring blankly at the white wall.

he looked towards the door, and blue finally met green; without the brutal heaviness of rage, nor the morosely look of tiredness. this was them, raw and open.

and harry almost died right there because _that blue_.

that blue that made up louis’ eyes, even when bloodshot red. not even the sky nor the ocean were near the perfection of his eyes. eyes where harry always fell within and got lost and lost and everything was still alright.

“harry.” louis whispered so, so soft, as if no one but louis was supposed to hear it, as if that name only belonged to louis and only his lips had the right to speak it that way.

and his name spoken by louis had never been more beautiful, but this trance-like harry had a job to do.

“louis, i need to say—”

“harry…i, this…could—”

“no, louis, i’m sorry. i’m sorry because everything, every single thing i said was a lie.” harry got near the bed, he was still standing so he was hovering up above louis just like a few hours ago, but this was different, because harry still felt small. still felt small next to louis.

“the thing is, louis, you’re perfect. yeah, you’re such a silly, _silly_ boy, and i’m almost convinced your blood is made up of yorkshire tea and you never wear socks and you never stop talking and you’re so loud, but i don’t care. because i love every single thing about you. even the annoying things, because they aren’t even annoying to me anymore. maybe they never were. that’s how love works, isn’t? when you love everything about a person so much that it hurts and they love everything about you. and, i really hope you love everything about me, louis. it’s hard, almost impossible, but i really hope you do.”

his throat hurt, was there sand in there? his voice was deep, as deep as it had always been, maybe even deeper, but it was fragile and harry had never sounded more like a small kid that in that moment.

“i don’t care if you leave the toothpaste open, i’ll leave it open too if you want. i’ll get up earlier in the mornings to make us some breakfast if you want. and damn it, i’ll kiss your feet every night if that’s what you want. and all i need is _you_ , louis. you just like you are, nothing more. i feel that’s asking too much already, because you are the best person in the planet i’m sure of it. no one out there is kinder, or funnier, or so goddamn beautiful.”

“i guess, what i’m trying to get at…you complete me. everything about our life is a mess, but your mess fits right in there with mine. and i can’t imagine my life with someone else. you managed to be with me for eight years already? the only who’s done that is my mum, but even her doesn’t tolerate half my shit like you do. she doesn’t do that shit with me.”

louis smiled.

“i love your kisses, and your hugs, and your blowjobs, and your tickles, and your horrible food.” he paused and caught his breath.

“louis. louis. louis. will you marry me?”

there was silence in the room. harry was almost sure louis was dead, he wasn’t breathing. _styles, you killed him, great job._

“i—”

“you say i’m a silly boy, harry? but you are the silliest boy on earth. proposing to me while wearing bright yellow shorts, and i don’t even have any briefs on underneath these pants. _and_ we are in zayn’s guest room, which smells a little funny, if i’m honest.”

oh, no.

“and eight years you say? eight years since i’ve had to put up with awful puns and jokes no one else finds funny but you, and the temper trap playlists on loop. and don’t get me started on having to put up with all those old snobbish people you call friends. i mean, they actually think they’re being cool. eight years of giant hands and giant feet and giant everything…actually, make it seven, ‘cause you used to be tiny at sixteen, harry. left me in the dust at seventeen.”

“louis…”

“no, let me finish, harry. let me finish ‘cause i’ve had to put up with nick fucking grimshaw for more than it’s deemed healthy. and it’s been eight years of your cheshire accent that should make you sound arrogant, but really it’s just damn cute. cute because it’s you harry. harry, lover of cats and hipster music. harry, lover of the tightest of trousers and blazers. harry, who makes pop music but still gets to love the ramones  and the xx. harry, who got to fucking settle down louis tomlinson at nineteen, maybe eighteen?”

louis sighed, “i’m not perfect harry, but if you want me just like i am, i’m ok. because god knows i love you just like you are. even when you start rambling when you’re nervous, or when you just _need_ to pee right before you’re about to fuck me. or that you cry like at least twice a week. or that you’re such a dumbshit that speaks so slow, it doesn’t matter because i love every second of it, hazza. and you can’t dance for shit, but neither can i, so it alright. it’s always been alright. with anyone else i would’ve gotten bored within the first few months, but you keep me alive harry. you make me this passionate man who keeps seeing fire whenever i’m near you. thank you.”

“is that a yes?”

“i called the studio. told them i didn’t want the job anymore.”

“oh, but didn’t you want the job? was it because of me?”

“no, i didn’t want that stupid job! let’s just spend our money while we can, harry. let’s go to valencia, or tokyo, or some small village in italy or some shit like in the movies. i just want to go out there and enjoy the world, but for real this time.”

“yeah, i’ve never wanted anything else, lou.”

“and yes.”

“yes what?”

“yes, as in yes i’ll marry you, harry.”

“oh.”

and louis is in front of him, their noses almost touching, in mere seconds. he’s the one who gets on his tip toes, and he’s the one who kisses harry first. because harry is still too dumbfounded…because, well, he’s marrying louis tomlinson. he is.

and they kiss and kiss until their lips are red and about to bleed. it’s stupid, he knows, because just this morning louis was eating cereal and harry was tired and caught in such a monotone life. but now he thinks this might be the happiest day of his life and how could life be so monotone with louis by his side? it’s stupid because louis is right, he’s wearing some hideous yellow shorts because it was the first thing he saw when he got out of his flat. and both of their eyes are red and they are barely breathing because this moment is perfect. louis’ hands are tangled in harry’s curls and harry cups louis’ face with both hands and this is just so _them_.

harry can’t help but think that louis drives him crazy. he makes harry want to jump off a cliff and there’s nothing wrong with that. as long as louis leaves the toothpaste open every morning, there’s nothing wrong with that.

“you drive me fucking crazy, harry styles.” louis whispers in between kisses.

and harry is okay with that, he really is.

 

x

_the end._

**Author's Note:**

> little things is one of my favorite songs of the album so i hope i at least made it some justice :) feedback is always welcome.


End file.
